Reines Weiss: Pure White
by phenocrystian
Summary: Before the age of 14 Yohji used to be a street hooker living off crack until he broke free from his father's grasp. So the summary sucks. But the next chapter is gonna swing a wild arc. Give Pheno a chance?
1. chapter one : black hope

**[DISCLAIMERS]** _I don't own Weiss. And Schuldich is still feuding with me because I made him uke for who knows how many times._

**[AUTHOR'S NOTES]** _Gift fic to Zeets, my best friend. Because she loves Yohji, and because I love her. And all my thanks to the wonderful people who left me reviews for my other fics. Am truly deeply grateful. Sankyuu. Truthfully this is the only fic I'm satisfied with among my solo works. Hope you'll enjoy this little angst piece I'm doing for leisure._

**_Reines Weiss_** _(pure white)_ – Part 1

The music hammered his ears from all sides and he could not care less as he rocked along the screaming lyrics. With effortless ease he chased notes with twisting arms, pursued the rhythm with booted feet. Sensual. Flawless. Every single fluid motion dripped sex. He smiled.

He _was_ sex.

A hand groped, reached, and he allowed himself to be swept into the older man's arms. Indifferent. Unresisting. Parted his lips in mild welcome as the stranger devoured him with hungry teeth and tongue.

They kissed. 

No. Not a kiss. 

It was carnal lust, an animalistic act stripped of love and in its place, raw blatant desire. The young boy molded himself against his customer's body. With a slight quirk of lips and slanting of empty jade eyes he set his skilled hands in use. He knew exactly where to touch, to arouse. He knew what the sort liked: a deceptively submissive, innocent-looking child with the will of fire to argue with his looks. 

He knew what they liked, and he played what they liked. He was fourteen and he was beautiful. Skinny, underfed and gaunt. 

A hand in his hair. 

Slender frame and angular features. Trim waist, lean hips. 

A rough knead on his thigh.

Soft dark locks and luminous green eyes. Gullible eyes. Knowing eyes. 

The man groaned and grounded himself upon the teenager's thigh. The boy responded, pure and simple. He pressed himself against the larger body and rubbed suggestively, knowing the friction would drive him mad. It did.

The man led him off the dance floor and threw him into a chair. Already he was breathing hard.

The brunette stared up with icy green gems. His gaze never wavered.

"Fifty," he said.

The man glared. Clamped his hands on the youth's already spread kneecaps and wrenched his legs wide. "Thirty."

The boy snorted. Amused. Derisive. "Forty five."

"Thirty five."

"Forty five. No more, no less." Impatient. Snappish.

"Fine. Forty. That's my last offer." Eager hands fumbled with the clasp of his leather pants and he rolled his head back, exposing his slender throat, dark tresses falling behind him. 

"Deal."

He closed his eyes as his pants were tugged past his hips. Felt the rough messy kiss imprinting his jawline. He wanted to laugh at the mockery of it. A parody of sex. It wasn't sex. It was a fuck and not a good fuck at that. The client was new to this. Probably some well-kept loving husband and good father wanting a taste of 'crossing over'. Wanting a piece of some pretty whore's ass. 

Wanting him.

He groaned in discomfort at the hastiness and roughness, thankful the ordeal was over not ten minutes after it started. The man thrust too hard, dug too deep, came to fast. Definitely not one of the best fucks he had.

The brunette picked up and pocketed the bills his client had peeled off from his stack of twenties. Damn. Not even a tip. The youth speared his customer's back with his eyes in irritation.

Goddamn mother fucker. Would it kill him to pay a few more bucks?

He fastened his fly and straightened his clothes. Walked out of the rampaging rave clubhouse and sidled into the quieter alley. He saw a few of his kind there. Pretty girls. Whorish girls. Girls in scanty leather see me want me touch me fuck me skirts. Tanks cut so low it was a miracle their breasts didn't fall out.

They glared at him. He glared back. Damn, he wouldn't render so cheap as to fight to be fucked. He needed pay, but he never stole.

A rosy plump woman scurried past. Head tipped, eyes downcast, unwilling to witness the degradation of the human kind. She half-ran. A little scared, a little suspicious. A girl with jet-black hair stuck out her spike-heeled foot and tripped the woman. Her bags scattered to the floor in a crumpled mess. 

And the bunch broke into peals of laughter.

He didn't. He picked up her purse at his feet and handed it to her.

The hag's eyes flashed. "You're proud of yourself, aren't you? Living this life and getting paid for your body. Get away from me, whore!"

She grabbed her bags and hurried away.

The boy laughed bitterly. Yeah right, life's exactly what he wanted it to be and more.

The youth shoved his thin hand into his pocket and fished around for his packet of smoke. He shook one out. Glared at the box. He'd traded for half a packet not three weeks ago and now he was down to the last of his stock. 

Cursing, he started his lighter and lit his stick. Took a long drag from his cigarette and puffed. The smoke formed a wispy mist, extending above his head, reaching for the sky. The boy looked on with empty eyes. 

Reaching, it seemed, for heaven.

The weak wisp struggled in vain for mere seconds before vanishing into thin air. He stared at his half-burnt joint in contempt. With a sneer and casual flick of his hand, he tossed it onto the mud-caked road. Ground the glowing joint with the heel of his boot and walked into the streets, hands in pockets.

Heaven was another universe away. He couldn't dare to hope.

Yohji laughed again and it earned him curious sidelong looks from his fellow workers. The sound was brittle, full of self-loathe, disgust.

Heaven.

Goddamnit. He was in hell.


	2. chapter two : fragile promises

**[AUTHOR'S NOTES**] Whoot! Here comes chapter two! *bounces around hyper while nobody giving a damn* Gift to Zeets! Dark and angst! But feel free to archive any of my stories without telling me. I honestly don't mind. (Yeah, like anyone would like the trash I write) I'm supposed to be studying for a test but if I don't get this out of my head, I'm gonna go crazy. 

**Pheno** : Let me let you on a little secret. *whispers* Yoippari recently relieved me of my collaboration virginity…

**Everyone** : O.O

**Yoippari** : *fwap* Don't mislead the readers, baka!

**Pheno** : Anyway keep your eyes open for the new fic. We had a lot of fun writing it. Just hope that you'll have as much fun reading. Ja for now!

(The collaboration is now up and running at: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1007360)

_p.s. To Zeets, Jade, Yoippari, Fel-chan : *cuddlenuzzlesnuggleglomp* Wuv you. Without you this chapter would never have been written. A hundred million thanks to:_

**TalonSage **: Oh my gosh, that has to be one of the sweetest reviews I've ever had… thank you so very much! *hugs and glomps* I'll be sure to check your stuff out. Whee! Whore Yohji! *gets egged*

**Zeets** : Yes, honey, this is all for you. Hope you'll enjoy it. Woohoo! Yuu!

**Marsupial** : Gomen… I live for angst. Yohji's going to suffer a lot more before he gets the good stuff. The hot stuff. The sour stuff…

**Sakuya** : Does it really sound so Schu? Dear me… it's going to turn Yohji-like soon. Hope you'll still bother to read this...

**Alyssa** : Whee! You found me… again! *cuddles* What can _I_ do without _you _to feed my ego?

**Ciphercat** : Once again you've found my fics. Oh wow. *tears brimming* That was really wonderful of you. Sankyuu.

_Reines Weiss (pure white)_ – Part Two 

If anyone in Rosewood Street had had the chance to look out of his window at three oh sharp in the first sweep of dawn, he might have caught sight of a tall willowy figure in mismatched clothes and worn black boots peering nervously over his shoulder as he turned around the corner and disappeared into the Kudou house.

All who lived in the neighborhood would never have guessed that this neglected-looking youngster wrapped in the beer-stained torn top would be the same well-groomed, cheery fourteen-year-old who greeted everyone in his path with a wide warm smile every single morning there was.

Yohji paused on the porch, his feet firmly rooted to the granite ground. A faint scream sounded within. An I'm-so-dead-drunk scream. A woman's scream, followed by the low, gruff, heavy baritone of whom and what could only be his father. 

As if the old man wasn't bad enough, his mother had to choose today to come home, too. Yohji shook his head in disgust. He pulled the jingling keys out of his left pocket and unlocked the door, bending only to strip off his muddy boots before slipping into the house. He kept his footsteps as soundless as possible as he tiptoed down the dimly lit corridor. Colorful rainbows danced across the walls and Yohji shook his head at the pure irony of it.

A hoarse shout speared the silence.

"Goddamn it, woman! You drop off these two little sonuvabitches and you come here asking me for money, eh? As if I didn't pay enough shit for them?"

_Yeah. Like you would feed us. And I'm getting fucked for fun._

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up! If it wasn't for you they wouldn't be here to ruin my life---"

The sound of a bottle breaking, then, "Are you saying it's _my_ fault then? Are you?"

He heard his mother whimper before breaking into a bloodcurdling scream. 

Yohji snorted and scampered up the stairs. 

All was normal. His runaway, drug-addicted mom would come pounding on the door every once in a while and show up demanding her share of fare. They would scream a lot. Throws things around a little. Glass things. Breakable things. Dad goes berserk, mom gets a freakin' good beating and flees the house cursing obscene threats and miserly wankers. Happened all the time.

Yohji paused momentarily as another crack echoed through the empty house. The harsh sound of cane on flesh, followed by the wretched woman's earsplitting shriek.

Yohji shrugged.

He didn't belong to this mess. Let them kill each other. The faster they die, the better. He honestly didn't care.

He climbed the rest of his journey and waded through the inky black sea. He was accustomed to darkness. They had lights, but electricity fee robbed them of what little change they had, so unlike his father he never touched the switch unless it was absolutely necessary. Yohji twisted the bedroom doorknob and dipped his head, green eyes alert for any shift of movement in the room----

_"Onii-san!"_

His breath rushed out of his lungs in a low whoosh as bony arms flung around his stomach, nearly knocking him out. He sported a small smile as he tenderly patted the tousled blond head, displaying the only heartfelt affection he ever showed towards anyone around him.

"What's up, Yuu?" Yohji asked, his voice dropping into adopting a gentle teasing tone as he scooped up the skinny child in his arms. Wispy blond hair tickled his nose and he laughed as Yuu nuzzled the side of his face and grinned into his ear.

Big brown eyes blinked up at him with the unique fragrance of childish innocence. Yohji's fingers tightened involuntarily around his little brother's shirt, holding him close. No, he would never allow anyone to taint him. Not his mother. Not his father.

And, for the love of God, not him.

Yohji carried Yuu to the bed and deposited him onto the crumpled covers. Yuu was so fragile he hardly seemed to weigh an ounce. Yohji tucked the blond in bed and perched on his left, stroking the child's matted forehead with his palm until the six-year-old dropped off into peaceful slumber.

He was fourteen, but he felt as though he had lived for centuries. There was so much he'd seen, so much he'd heard. All that even a grownup should never have experienced. Yet he did.

And wearing the scars, he lived.

"Yohji?" A sleepy mumble.

He snapped out of his dozing trance. "Hai.. hai."

"Yohji… are we better off dead?"

Yohji bent and stretched himself alongside his brother, sticking out his long legs, head atop a rumbled old pillow that smelled faintly of dust and old age. "Hmm. I don't know. Who gave you the idea?"

Yuu grinned. The lamppost light outside their window washed over them, painting Yuu's teeth bright neon yellow. A small hand emerged from the sheets and placed on Yohji's arm, mutely tracing his tattoo. "Mommy says so."

"Does she." Yohji rolled on his stomach and cradled his chin atop crossed arms, eyes thoughtful. He wondered how much Yuu knew. And he wondered how much courage it took for the child to put up such a steel front when his own mother proclaimed she wished he'd never been born. "What do _you_ think?"

Yuu offered no answer. He was fast asleep.

Yohji toyed with silky blond tendrils. Golden strands twisted between slender fingers. 

Perhaps they were better off dead. Perhaps they had never even lived to begin with.

But they had each other. And it was all that mattered.


End file.
